


after love

by tunny



Series: rimbaud quotations [1]
Category: Dead Poets Society (1989)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Implied Sexual Content, Lowercase, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, but its tender i swear, expansion of a drabble i wrote on tumblr, only a little though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-27 18:48:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19796881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tunny/pseuds/tunny
Summary: "the morning after love, then, in sadness: do you know I have destroyed you?"first communions,arthur rimbaud





	after love

arthur rimbaud once wrote “the morning after love, then, in sadness: ‘do you know i have destroyed you?” and todd wasn’t sure he understood what it was supposed to mean the first time he read it. he worried his bottom lip with his teeth, face scrunching up as he tapped his fingertips over the words in his book. he knew it had to do with love, that much was clear and obvious, some sort of love that was painful. forbidden, maybe. it wasn’t until he laid silent on the ground with neil, gazing at his beautiful boy and his perfect features in the fading sunlight that he thought about love and the poem again. it was just- todd knew ever since jeffery's friend smiled at him in a sad, knowing way when he stared once during a family trip to the lake, that he was different. and he knew that people like him didn’t get their happy endings.

his father caught him once, reading a book he knew to feature people like him, it was called giovanni's room, and todd had loved it. loved it so much he became careless, left it dogeared on his desk, a mark on the page where giovanni and david first kissed, one where david expressed how he wished to be with giovanni forever, and where giovanni offered up prostitution to get his job back and- well. perhaps he had been a bit young to read that novel. but the idea of two men being in _love_ was just so amazing to fourteen year old him.

but it was different with neil, he knew it was. he knew they weren't giovanni and david, ending in murder and tragedy, and it didn't destroy anything like arthur rimbaud said it would. maybe it was the gentleness of his smile, the way that even the slightest airy trail of fingertips against each other sent currents of electricity strong enough to power new york city for years to come, but todd knew-he _knew-_ they were different. it was almost pathetic, how eager and hungry they both were for contact, but how nervous they were to give or receive it. and the first time they held each other, the first time todd had the time to appreciate just how soft the skin on neil's hands were, he never wanted to let go. the second time, it was so cold outside that it may as well have been the holidays. the minimal heating they had inside welton had broken in some disaster of a fluke, so all they could do to warm up was hold each other, piled under the thin blankets and a quilt todd's mother had stitched together one year.

and hold each other they did. feather-light brushes of fingertips on skin sent shivers down neil’s spine, and an iron grip around todd’s torso kept them pressed together. they weren’t doing anything risky, but a chair was shoved up under the door handle anyway, keeping them safe from the world outside. as they breathed, it was like the world was pulsing. todd’s heartbeat was so loud, he was certain charlie could hear it from across the hall, and neil’s breaths were short and choppy as todd whispered something inaudible against the curve of his neck and puncuated the sentences with kisses.

it was different with neil, who twitched when todd’s fingers brushed against his cheek. it was different with neil, who teared up when todd trailed his fingertips on the palm of his hand because it was just so intimate. it was different with neil, whose whispered pleas and words made todd feel like he could rule the world. "darling," his muse had whispered, panting breaths against his neck, "please hurry up." and todd grinned, the grin he only brought out in late hours of the night when neil was bare and needed to not be in control anymore, and todd trailed his hands down, to a place private and sinful.

it was different with neil, who commanded the stage in the way that aphrodite herself commanded the feelings of love or that apollo commanded the light. the weak spotlight seemed to shine brighter on neil, his crown of thorns a broken halo.

arthur rimbaud once wrote “the morning after love, then, in sadness: ‘do you know i have destroyed you?” and todd wasn’t sure he understood what he meant until neil’s coffin was lowered into the ground.


End file.
